King And Lionheart
by our dancing days
Summary: Narcissa, James, and trying to stand tall when the world is turning upside down. AU. / A series, for the 'Can You Write A Drabble' competition.
1. Crystal Balls

**Prompts: **_"Excuse me?", _eye rolls, dreaming, rainbow, crystal ball.

**Word Count: **265

* * *

Narcissa laughs whimsically, her eyes bright as she spins in the centre of the Great Hall. It's like a crystal ball; full of rainbows and fog. Full of the future. Full of daydreams, tea leaves and tarot cards. She sighs, her eyes alight with promises, her hands twitching with starlight.

Her crystal ball is showing a future she's sure she can enjoy.

* * *

James rolls his eyes at the rainbow of colour (azure, emerald, amber, scarlet) that moves restlessly, chattering away, observing the new students with pointed fingers and pointed glares.

Naturally, James glares back.

* * *

"_Black, Narcissa!"_

The Great Hall descends into silence. Narcissa dreams about frogs and princes, mirrors and curses and crystal balls, and until a rough hand on her back pushes her forward, she doesn't register her name being called. She turns around, and hazel eyes roll at her.

"Go on, Black," the boy whispers harshly, and he pushes her forward again. Gently, Narcissa glides her way to the stool.

There is a minute of restless silence.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"_Excuse me?" _

* * *

"_Potter, James!"_

James smirks to himself; two Blacks have been sent to Gryffindor. The odd, insane boy named Sirius, and the distant princess named Narcissist, or something equally ridiculous.

He struts up to the stool, confident in his fate; he's never truly believed in his mother's palm readings or _crystal balls, _but he knows where his destiny lies; amongst red and maroon, crimson and ruby. James Potter _belongs _in Gryffindor.

(Just as Narcissa once belonged in Slytherin.)

"SLYTHERIN!"

"_Excuse me?" _

* * *

The thing is, with crystal balls; _they don't always show the whole picture._


	2. A Different Kind of Knight

**Prompts: **Hurt, hold, Oh Merlin, midnight,_ "Why does this always happen to me?"_,fairy lights, pridefully, just my luck, sneer,_ "Don't worry my dear," _zinnias and 'Different Kind of Knigh' t by Christian Kane.

**Word Count: **188

* * *

_Run, little Cissy, run, because they'll catch you and eat you and brand you and that pretty blonde head will fall so softly, sweetheart-_

"Oh, Merlin!"

Two arms wrap around her, the heat blinding in the aftermath of her nightmare. Christmas fairy lights hover around the courtyard, and the brightness _hurts. _But the arms hold her, tight, safe.

"Just my luck." She crosses her arms. "Why does this always happen to me?"

"Don't worry, my dear," James sneers above her. "I'll save you from the big, bad monsters under your bed."

Narcissa falls backwards into the zinnias.

When James picks her up, he spins her, again, into his arms, humming something softly, the fairy lights mocking her from behind his shoulder. They start a slow waltz.

"Didn't know you could dance, Potter," she murmurs pridefully. The midnight sky laughs at her.

"You go believing in your Lancelot; well it's all in vain," James tells her, serenely, as if quoting something. "Maybe I'm a different kind of knight."

"I think chivalry's dead." Narcissa lets him dip her, her blonde hair brushing against the stone.

"Maybe your fairytales are lies."


	3. Starry Sky

**Prompts: **_"Did you say something?", "No, you're not,"_ starry sky, tempting, white dress, _"I'm doomed,"_ and lost and found.

**Word Count: **260

* * *

Narcissa wonders why people wish on stars.

_Stars. _They've never helped us; too far away to care. What does it matter if they shine? They're dead, cold to the core, and all we're seeing is an echo. A memory.

"The only thing stars are good for are supernovas," Narcissa mutters to herself.

"Did you say something?" An amused voice asks from behind her. She turns with a jolt, fingers clasped around the ledge. The starry sky smirks.

"No." James laughs outright, and joins her at the edge of the tower. She's in a pale white dress too much like Andromeda's; he's still in his Slytherin robes, edged with silver and gleaming under the starlight.

His eyes seem heavy. And the silver seems cold.

He toes the line carefully, and stands too close. Narcissa's hand reaches out, gently digging her nails into his arm, fighting tooth and nail to drag him back.

"I'm doomed," James whispers, and he looks down. It's so dark you can't see where exactly you'd hit the ground. It's _tempting._

"No, you're not," Narcissa says slowly. She digs her fingers harder into his bicep; he doesn't wince.

Instead, he turns and he stares at her. She realises, just once, that it's not his _eyes _that are heavy; it's his whole being, from the way his shoulders slump to the black curls hanging low over his eyes. James is lost.

(and maybe -)

(-maybe she can find him-)

When Narcissa leans forward and kisses him, the stars don't stop shining - but maybe they shine a little brighter.


	4. Star Crossed

**Prompts: **_"But I thought you said...", _wive's tales, Muggle, 'I Forgive You' by Kelly Clarkson, windswept, minute, heather, blow me away, star-crossed, _"What?" / "You just don't get it, do you?", _key, agoraphobia.

**Word Count: **465 words

* * *

_seventeen minutes_

The first thing James processes is that it's raining.

He's always loved symbolism.

* * *

_sixteen minutes_

The last thing Narcissa thinks of is the rain pouring down on her, the drops flattening her hair and gripping tight to her coat, desperate lovers clinging on for dear life.

She pounds on the door to their Muggle flat, fumbling with her key in the lock. It won't work.

(If she suspects that James has changed the locks, she doesn't linger over it.)

* * *

_twelve minutes_

"James," Narcissa pleads. He slumps against the other side of the door - stars apart from _her_ - head buried in his hands. _I forgive you, _he thinks, over and over. _I forgive you._

* * *

_nine minutes_

She looks around, suddenly nervous, face half covered in the light of the streetlight. She knocks on the door again, because the air is bitter and she's windswept and she feels like the walls are closing in.

Which is ridiculous, because there aren't any walls out here.

Narcissa shivers.

* * *

_eight minutes_

James tears open the door, not even blinking when Narcissa falls into him. He pulls a piece of heather out of her hair, and smiles down at her.

She opens her Muggle umbrella - _finally, _he thinks - and shakes it out.

"You shouldn't do that, you know," he tells her, spinning his keys around his finger absentmindedly.

"Old wive's tale," she murmurs. "Are you finally going to let me tell you that I couldn't care less whether you're a puppet for Dumbledore or for Voldemort? Are you going to let me tell you that I just love you?"

"But I thought you said.."

Narcissa smiles, shaking her head. James stares. "We're a right old pair of star-crossed lovers, aren't we?" She laughs bitterly, wrapping her arms around herself.

"What?"

"You just don't get it, do you?"

* * *

_five minutes_

"I know you blow me away," James tells her with a smirk, and she blows a piece of hair out of her face, unamused and just a little in love. "It's the key to love, after all."

* * *

_four minutes_

"We were just a couple of kids," Narcissa whimpers as she is tugged into a rib-crushing hug, her heart pounding between their chests, caged and bound. "Trying to figure it out."

"We were busy living the dream, you mean," he adds, and he presses a key into her palm - the etchings different.

He'd changed the locks after all.

* * *

_one minute_

"I forgive you," she whispers against his cheek, and he smiles, a brush of lips against her neck, a warmth spreading through her chest when she thinks, _I forgive me. _

"The damage is done." But he tucks a lock of windswept hair behind her ear, and smiles softly.

Their lips meet -

* * *

_it's time_

- and the stars are crossed.


End file.
